


Somehow It Feels Alright

by lovethybooty



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Birthday Cake, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Capitol Citizens, District 4, F/M, Finnick's Birthday, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Panem, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, The Capitol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethybooty/pseuds/lovethybooty
Summary: For better or for worse, Finnick is a people pleaser.Written for oh_so_loverly because today is her BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOANNA!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oh_so_loverly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_so_loverly/gifts).



> To start off, I'm sorry I haven't been writing. A lot of serious and sad stuff is happening in my life right now.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, I can get to the fun stuff! I wrote this silly thing for my friend Joanna, because today is her birthday! Yay!!
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, I HOPE YOU LIKE WHATEVER THIS IS!

For better or for worse, Finnick is a people pleaser.  
  
So, when he leaves on a two-month excursion to the Capitol, he kisses Annie goodbye on the cheek and tells her he'll be home by his birthday.  
  
A part of him feels bad for lying- well, not lying, really, but giving false hope- because everyone knows that Finnick is the Capitol's favorite birthday  _ ~~party~~_  boy. But  _Finnick_ knows how much birthdays mean to her, because "each year is another year we didn't die and, _besides_ , you only turn 22 once." So he smiles and tells her he'll be home anyway. It’s what she wanted to hear, what she wanted to _believe_ , and he didn't know how to tell her otherwise.  
  
And yeah, he'll try to get out of the parties, the appointments, the meetings with Snow and other nasty people. He'll try to catch the train a day early and get home to Four, but he knows best of all how it'll work out in the end.  
  
On his birthday, he'll sit in a dark hotel room with a nameless, faceless Capitolite, and he'll down champagne flute after champagne flute until everything feels like nothing. And in Four, Annie will wait for him, sitting in his kitchen with a cake Mags helped bake. Eventually she'll cry and he'll feel like shit the next morning and he won't know if it’s the booze or the guilt.

It happened last year, it'll happen again. And a part of him wants to tell her that he can't always keep his promises- that sometimes his words are just that. But he knows how that'll sting like sea salt in a fresh wound, so he hangs up the phone before he even gets to dialing.

* * *

The morning of his birthday, Annie heads out to the market. She wanders the stalls for hours and still nothing screams _Finnick._ So, instead, she heads to the beach. She waits in the sand and wades in the water as shallow waves wash over bare feet. And then she sees it- a shell, purple and big with soft ridges running the length of its side like a ribcage. She bends down swiftly, snatches it up before the waves have the chance to drag it back out to sea.

When she gets home, Mags helps her with the cake, watching the clock as Annie paces through the halls. The old woman tuts and sighs, but she doesn't dare tell Annie the truth.

And when the cake is finished and the streamers hang down from the ceiling, Annie sits at the kitchen table and waits. She waits and waits, and it’s 9:45 when a hand finally claps down on her shoulder.

Head whips around too fast, almost violently, and for a split second she thinks it’s him. Then she realizes it’s just Mags. The old woman sighs and tells her to go to bed, but Annie just smiles and shakes her head.

“You go on home, Mags,” sea green eyes drift to the clock on the wall. “I’ll wait just a little bit longer.”

Mags sighs again, but nods this time. She grabs her coat off the table before padding out of the room and house.

Annie isn't stupid. Deep down, she knows he isn't coming. Still, though, she waits up, eyes darting between clock and door. By the time she finally falls asleep, it’s 11:00. The exhaustion catches up to her and she passes out at the table, head resting atop neatly folded hands.

* * *

It’s 11:50 when the side door creaks open, but Annie only stirs slightly. She lifts her head, mind foggy with waking dreams and assumes it's just Mags back again. 

“I’ll only be up for a couple more minutes,” she manages, words stumbling over each other.

He walks around the table, footsteps stopping behind her, leans over the back of her chair, rests his head upon her shoulder. “Looks like you had a real rager, Ann.”

Annie’s eyes flutter open and her head slowly turns, blinking.

“ _Finnick?_ ” She all but flips in her chair, tiredness erased, a new life breathed into her at the mere sight of his hazy visage. "I didn't think you were going to make it!”

“I told you I’d be home by my birthday, didn't I?” Finnick smirks, expression sitting somewhere between _I told you so_ and _I missed you too._

She nods.

“You did, but I thought you’d… _I didn't think you’d_ …” Annie stops herself and shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug. “I'm just happy you're finally home,” she whispers.

Finnick nods and the two are still for a moment, reveling in a silence that brings nothing but warmth and peace. 

"Happy Birthday, by the way," she finally says, head nestled in the crook of his neck. Right where it belongs.

"Huh? Oh, _yeah_ , I guess it is a pretty sweet birthday," he realizes. In the rush of booking it back to Four, he'd nearly forgotten why the matter was so urgent to begin with.

Finnick grins, reaching around her back to dip his index finger in the buttercream frosting. He taps her shoulder until she meets his gaze, then smears the cake onto her nose, pulling his hand away with a flick.

"You're a dead man, Odair," Annie laughs, wiping the icing away. "Don't think you're off the hook just because it is," she looks over her shoulder, 12:03, " _was_ your birthday."

"I dunno, Annie, you look good in cake. It really," he pauses, struggling for something to say, "compliments your eyes."

Finnick laughs and she glares, but somehow it feels alright.


End file.
